We're On The Ball
by kathryn ashworth
Summary: a uni fic, inspired by a Guides "talent" show, World Cup tat and a couple of odd conversations


It was the end of the year and Miranda's routine consisted of get up, go to the library, stare at her notes and textbooks with now seemed like gibberish, drink coffee, stare at notes and textbooks, have lunch, repeat the morning's failures, slope back to the house to be bored rigid by Stevie going on about how much she had got done, go to bed, repeat the next day. Because of this she took to paying far more attention the the posters in the entrance to the library. '5-a-side football tournament 3pm Saturday, tickets £1.50' followed by details of who to contact for tickets. She didn't really have that much interest in the game, but she could think of plenty of reasons to go, not plenty per se in fact there were three but one got repeated a lot, she would get to see Gary in shorts, it would make a nice change from studying, Gary in shorts, the weather was supposed to be nice, Gary in shorts. Unfortunately thinking about Gary in shorts meant she got even less work done than usual.

"Something's up, you're staring into space more than ever."

"It's nothing, just this revision is driving me mad, it feels like my brain is made of cotton wool."  
"It's not that, I've had three years of you being like that, this is something different. It's a Gary thing isn't it?" Miranda gave a tiny nod.

"He's playing in the 5-a-side thing on Saturday, I bumped into him in the library, so cancel any plans for Saturday afternoon, and I'm going to tell him that I like him after the game."

"So you need me there for when you don't tell him and try to come up with something else instead, how many times have we been through this."  
"I really am going to tell him, and there won't be any tequila at the game so no Dutch courage and waking up in his bath, unlike Christmas, and this is one of the last chances to tell him."

I spent even less time studying than earlier in the week, all I could think about was how to tell Gary I liked him. Stevie was very impressed with the sheets and sheets of notes I had made on the Friday, unfortunately, they were notes of potetntial 'I know we're friends but I really like you speeches'. She was about to tell me off when the phone rang.

"Gary, what a surprise, we were just talking about you." "Yes I'll just get her." she pointlessly covered the mouthpiece to tell me it was for me (I was the only other person in the house.

"I've got a massive favour to ask, and you are literally my last resort."

"Thanks, I'm so flattered, and it depends on the favour, if the next two words are goat and sacrifice, then it's a no."  
"Are you doing anything on Saturday?"  
"Coming to watch you, why?"

"Thanks to a combination of stairs and cat sitting we have a goalkeeper with a broken leg."

"And you want me to take over?"  
"I will love you forever if you do."

"Oh, go on then. See you tomorrow."

"What was all that about?"

"I'm now playing in goal for Gary's team tomorrow, so as an athlete I shall retire to bed as I need to be well rested."

I wasn't too pleased before the game, I found out that as well as the usual (I presumed they were usual) bets like first goalscorer, and first to get a yellow card there were alternative bets 'time before Miranda trips over the ball, scores an own goal, lets the roll over the line' and many more. I was determined to prove everyone wrong, and as proud as I was not to do any of the above, I did make some mistakes. I nearly got sent off for assaulting the referee, I bounced the ball off his head, in my defence I didn't think I kicked it that hard, or that accurately, and proved this at the next attempt at a goal kick by missing the ball completely and landing rather hard on top of it. I did redeem myself in the final, yes we made it that far, due to the rest of the team not letting any of the opposition get to my end of the pitch, by once again showing a flash of genius/tripping over my own feet and good timing, I'll let you decide that one.

I managed to talk to Gary after we had the team photo taken for the paper, trying to look as presentable as people who had been running round all afternoon could. Deciding that if I tried to make any sort of speech I would end up rambling on all night, so I took a deep breath and told him.

"I like you."  
"I like you too, I don't tend to be friends with people I don't like."  
"No, I mean I like you as more than a friend."

"That's good, I was scared you'd laugh at me if I told you, just wish I could get out of this trip so I could stay with you."

"You'll just have to get very good at writing letters then."  
"I'm coming home for Christmas anyway, as if mum would let me miss that." I can't say that I remember much of the rest of the night, but there was tequila.


End file.
